


In Gilded Chains

by MrowSaystheCat



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: A/U, Harem fic, M/M, No ZA, Slavery themes, forced bondage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-19
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-06-09 10:56:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6903013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrowSaystheCat/pseuds/MrowSaystheCat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>+Title is subject to change.</p>
<p>A harem fic. <br/>Daryl is the brother of an Overlord and during a parade of tributes - his world begins to change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Swallowed by a Gaze.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [oleanderedits](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oleanderedits/gifts).



> Hello :D Taking a small break on Nightbird, but no worries - it shall be back! This one just sat and gnawed on me for too long, and I had to start it.
> 
> This one is probably going to go to some places that some people might not enjoy.   
> There's a lot of themes here which are sensitive in nature. You've been warned.

He found himself wishing he’d not come back from his hunt. Not right then. It had been good, he and his men had been very successful. However, his homecoming was tainted with another type of trophy parade. Merle’s men had brought in that year’s host of tributes from the Captured Settlements. The harem would grow, other high officials would be granted fresh slaves; their home would thrive on those healthy, unbent backs. But, despite the wealth they symbolized, those young people could well be broken. It was the sentence on the life of any slave. And, no matter how much he hated it; Daryl would be subject to feeling completely useless to stop it. He knew it was the way of their world. He’d grown up with it, his and Merle’s Mother had come to their father as a tribute; a slave in the harem they’d been raised in. While they had been freed and elevated to power by the aspect of their Father’s position, it was different for someone brought in as tribute. She’d never been able to leave the harem, not like Merle’d promised her upon his ascension to their Father’s former post. Mama had died before that day of freedom could be given; she’d been poisoned by a rival. That rival had been put to death when it was discovered, and a new favorite had risen to their Father’s side. For a short time. Merle, upon ascension, had cleaned out the harem, ‘donating’ that favorite and all those who did not meet his palate to a local temple. They were all serving the gods then; not a bad end to the travels of their lives. Even if Daryl knew some of them resented it. There were those who still favored him, as if he was still the darling of the harem; though just a spare son in case the heir didn’t manage to their father’s expectations. Or, died. They were wise men and women; even then, Daryl held station of ‘spare’. Merle didn’t have an heir yet. If something happened to their overlord? It would be Daryl’s turn to take the reins of their home and all the settlements, Captured or Free, that depended upon them and their warriors. 

He’d been heading to the temple to take an offering of furs and animal flesh when he got sidetracked by the parade of the tributes. It wasn’t typical for him to watch the yearly procession, most of the time – he made sure he was away, but he supposed the rain had stopped this one from being like clockwork as they usually were. Whatever the reason, he was present for it; watching the slightly lowered faces as they were herded through the streets. Some people liked to reach out and touch them, knowing well enough to not be rough – it was against the law to accost a tribute during the parade; they were as yet unclaimed, no one to manage them or decide their fate or see to their care. So, when he saw a young girl get knocked to the ground by a free-woman she’d suddenly found herself in a struggle with, his eyes went wide with shock. And he moved to help her up, only to find himself beaten to the action; a young man had lowered himself from the march to help guide her to standing. As soon as the male tribute looked up, his eyes locked with Daryl’s – and the hunter’s heart was captured. Pinned in place by bottomless pools of soulful, liquid chocolate. 

He had to force his mouth shut. 

And then the youth was being pushed along by a guard; being yelled at for stopping. A whip was raised, and then Daryl was moving before he could help himself. Stepping out in the middle of the procession to catch the arm before it brought the whip down.

“The hell are you doing?” Daryl growled at the guard in charge of herding that particular section of tributes. “You know the laws. You can’t touch him, you’re supposed to guide them, not beat them. And you, woman…” His hand still had the guard’s wrist, caught; he turned to the woman who had tripped the girl. “You’re not getting out of this either, so don’t try to run off. Saw what you did to the blonde there; you’re gonna be talking to my brother about yourselves. Both of ya.” Daryl then pushed at the wrist he’d been holding, releasing it; and motioned for one of his own men to overtake the woman that had bothered the girl. As for the guard? Well, Daryl glared him out of the lines; knowing he’d go back to his barracks or it would be worse for him. Therefore, there was no point in bothering to corral him up like the woman, or to take the whip which was more symbol of placement than it was to do harm. For the moment. Daryl knew it could change, probably would, by the end of the day; a whip could well be plied to the young man soon, depending upon who got him. For the moment though, he’d decided to be the defender of the tribute. Both of them. He gestured and made a face at the blonde girl and the young man with the soulful eyes; making them walk before him like they had been. Crossing his arms as he followed behind them; knowing well he was being watched by those who knew his face. Those watchers would report to his brother, tell Merle all that had taken place. Still, Daryl walked on. His own men soon fell in line within the march of the tributes. Standing out in their leathers amongst the dark blue tunics of the new slaves, and the styled armor of the guard escort.

Merle was gonna give him so much shit.

~

It had been a ruckus of a greeting; Daryl having entered the hall with the tributes and his men, along with the guards typically assigned to such things. Merle had stood on the dais, arms crossed over his chest; chin lifted as he glanced over his brother and the bounty which wasn’t typical of Daryl. He’d laughed. For probably a solid minute, before coming down the steps to the open floor; taking his brother’s arm in greeting as the small ocean of tributes parted for him as he walked by them. He’d then jerked his younger sibling in to a hug, wrapped his arm around his shoulder, and led him from the ones he’d decided to protect. After that, he turned and looked at those draped in blue. He released his hold on Daryl, and walked through those who had been sent from their homes in offering; sacrifices so that their communities would not be wiped from the face of the world. He glanced at a few, the young man that Daryl had sheltered from the whip being one. If Merle had heard what happened on the street, he had not let it show on his face, but he had stared a long time at the young man before moving on. The youth had only kept his head bowed, until the Overlord had tipped his chin up and smirked at him. Right before he’d walked from him. Then, on to a few others of immediate interest. Finally, he’d returned to where Daryl stood to the side, waiting. The tributes would be taken from the room now that Merle had seen them all, and they would be bathed, groomed and given new clothing; later, they’d be examined further for talents, whittled down to a small group which would fit Merle’s interests. The rest would be taken to the cages, and there, their fates decided by those who dealt out flesh to labor and lust.

~

None of the questions which Daryl expected would come while they were in the public audience chamber. He’d been brought up on the dais, to his own typically empty seat, to settle next to Merle while complaints, petitions and accolades were poured in to the Overlord’s ears. It had been a very long while since he’d last sat in such state; uncomfortable in the leathers he’d worn, the grit of the road and woods still sticking to his person. He wanted to go and make himself more comfortable; a giant, in-ground bath had his name all over it in his quarters, after all. As he thought of that, he also pictured that young man he’d saved from the lashing; thought of those rich eyes turned up to him in joy, a gasp of bliss falling from those full, lush lips. Reddened from kisses. Relaxing in the water next to him while Daryl coaxed more sweetness from his voice in response to his touches.

“Stop daydreaming.” Merle’s voice was sharp, edging him straight out of the unbidden fantasy of the male tribute. It was like having cold water tossed over him, the perfect cure to such a state in public. “People’ll gawk and then go and squawk about you behind your back.” He’d gone in to an undertone then, turning his eyes to those approaching with a smile and a nod of his head.

“Like I didn’t know.” Daryl replied, casting an annoyed gaze at the Overlord; bitterness staining his expression while he was given a grin from the older man. It wasn’t the same brand presented to those petitioning at the bottom of the dais, and Daryl took in to account what they were discussing. Not allowing his mind to go back to the young man, or those enchanting eyes.

~

Glenn felt broken, defeated. They’d made Beth go in another room, with the rest of the women – but in the process of splitting the groups up, she’d gotten frightened and he’d tried his hardest to keep them together. In the end, one of their ‘caretakers’ had pinned his arms behind his back and dragged him backwards to the room he’d been told to go to, while Beth had been carried out bodily by another charged with their care. At the moment, Glenn also felt foolish; he’d reacted to her, and not to the truth of the situation. Still, her sister’s demand that he was to look after Beth to the best of his ability was still heavy on his heart. Maggie had died two years before, lost to an epidemic that had swept through their city. They’d all been trapped in the same dwelling, and before that? Before the elder sister had gotten sick? She and Glenn had grown close. He’d learned that Beth was all the family Maggie had left in the world, and as she’d faded from life; she’d laid upon him that task. When they both were drawn as tributes to come to the Overlord’s seat of power, he’d felt the first brush of fear that he would completely fail in fulfilling Maggie’s last wish. Glenn knew that there was no way to stop it. How could he not know? Regardless, in the two years since he’d made his promise to his dying lover, he’d come to see Beth as his own sister. So, when he’d announced this to the ‘caretakers’ that had pulled them in to the rooms, away from one another? They’d looked at him; taking in his appearance and then looked over at Beth and taken in hers. And they’d laughed. She was all milk and sunshine-honey, while he was gilded ivory and sable. He was Asian, she was Caucasian. Clearly they were not of the same blood. Maybe these ‘caretakers’ didn’t understand that there were more types of family than what genetics could clearly declare? Regardless, he’d felt deeply humiliated and chastised for his declaration; now and again catching one of the men’s eyes and being chuckled at while they forced the tributes to wash their bodies, hair and to shave. Perhaps it was just to keep him cowed; they’d seen valiance where it didn’t need to be. He was, after all, a person about to be kept or sold, no longer at freedom to make his own choices. Regardless of it all, his spirit was down and he was more frightened than he’d been in a very long time. There was nothing he could do about the first separation, and if one of them was kept while the other was sold? What then? Maggie couldn’t have foreseen these circumstances; they’d only been defeated in the year after she’d passed away. They’d still been weak from the ravages of the disease which had taken so many, and their city had fallen quickly; their numbers dwindling further in the onslaught. To spare those left, the city elders had flown the flag of surrender, and the rest was history. The first batch of tributes had gone forth with the army, and then they’d returned in time for the harvest to take a share of that and more tributes to keep the peace; himself and Beth included.  
He was taken from his thoughts when a hand touched his shoulder in passing. The man that made the contact looked at him for a moment, tilting his head slightly.

“Tell me about yourself, young man. What are your strengths? What trade did you have while you were in your city?” There was a small smile on the official’s face, and he had a scroll out and a small carry-stand that allowed him to press down. “Start with your name, please.” 

Glenn began to talk, speaking of his past with only a little pain; suddenly feeling numb to all things. Seeing the notes which had already been taken; everything from his appearance to the fact that the Overlord’s brother had taken interest in him. When he mentioned that he could read and write in the common tongue; he watched the official take a small step back and shift the parchment so it was no longer visible. A smug expression came to the man’s face, and Glenn glanced downward. Then felt the others hand upon his shoulder once more.

“Glenn Rhee to the Hall; make certain that he is seen clearly.” The official was looking at another; perhaps an assistant, as he gave the order. Then, he gave Glenn a small, curious look once again – before moving off to the next individual he needed to quiz.


	2. A Prayer for Your Loneliness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, um. I don't know? I hope y'all like it. Sorry for the wait. I hope its worth it.

Glenn was on his knees; sitting with some of those chosen for the Hall. He was at the very front of the collection of people, seated where he’d be easily seen by those who would enter. While he was highly alert, he was also frightened. What was going to happen to them all? Some were on their knees, like he was; arranged to look appealing on pillows which protected their knees from the floor. Others were standing along the walls, out of direct view. Beth was among those individuals; he’d seen her when she’d been marched in from another door with a small group of women. Glenn had turned his head to watch her, to make a visual inventory of her person from his vantage point; but a guard had come to him and told him to keep his eyes in front of him. There had been no room for argument; the blade which had whispered from the sheath had been placed near his face to reinforce the order. Part of him wondered if that was allowed, but he didn’t question the man; anything which happened would be irreparable after it occurred – and then who would take care of Beth? So, with his nerves even more on edge; he’d looked forward and rested his hands on his thighs, using his palms to pull the blue tunic down somewhat. Wondering if it would be the only thing he’d ever be given to wear again. He swallowed hard, closed his eyes, and found himself hoping for the best. What else could he do? At least Beth was there, in the Hall, with him; and not shuttled off to some other point. So many others had been, really. The number of tributes had dwindled considerably from point A of their entrance, to this new point those remaining found themselves in. Breaking his thought was a ‘caretaker’ walking around with a pitcher of chilled water and goblets that seemed to be made of gold and lined in pearl; he was offered water, and he took some – handing the goblet back when he was finished.

~

Merle was brought the notes which had been written, and he asked for a particular set first; he glanced over the words, smirking to himself before he handed them back to the official responsible. He would remember everything which had been listed out for his eyes; if anything was forgotten, then he could always go back and look again. The young man would be easy to manipulate, should there prove a need for it. However, instinct told him it probably wouldn’t be but so difficult; putting his plan to rightful action. After all, it was so simple. The girl which had come with the young man as tribute had been set aside as well; to work as a servant and be kept well out of the pens where she would have otherwise gone. Too young for Merle’s bed, that was for certain – though, he did wonder if perhaps he should give her to Andrea. She needed companions, after all; especially since she spent most of her time out of the harem. Yes, indeed. That’s where the girl would go. Easy enough life there, Andrea only got mean to the women that tried to get his attention away from her – or rather, the women he liked aside from her. Yes, perfect; and Andrea would understand the need to keep the girl, even if she didn’t like her. If anything, there was Amy – maybe the girl could be friends with her? Amy never seemed too keen on anything… Merle shook his head, knowing he had more important things to think about than the inner workings of his Chosen and her sister. Still, it wasn’t everyday his baby brother paid attention to the goings-on of a pack of tributes. He typically tended to avoid any of the functions which came with their arrival; and to have come in with them? Because of that pretty boy and his ‘sister’? Well, that was something worth being interested in. Especially since Merle felt like Daryl was going to end up being his heir; maybe this first tribute in his bed would lead to another? A female, perhaps? It was worth the chance. Thoughtfully, he swirled the wine in his goblet, then knocked it back with one gulp; placing the golden vessel on the table where it would be later cleaned by a servant. He walked forward to the Hall of Tributes, pushing through the heavily beaded curtains and in to the room where the new faces awaited him. Right outside the entry way to the harem, their new home.

Well, aside from the boy and his ‘sister’.

And of course, which face was the first he saw? Speak of the devil. Merle smirked and walked over to the youth; catching the young man under the chin with his fingers once again. “Stand up.” Was the easy order which came from Merle, and he led him away from the pillow he’d been kneeling on as soon as he was on his feet. Once there was some space, he told the young man to remain standing; then, he began to circle him, studying him with some interest. Yeah, so his brother had taste; he could at least hand that to him. Merle then crossed his arms and went to the youth’s face, looking him in the eyes for a long time; before the Kid’s eyes finally drifted to the floor, and Merle was chucking him under the chin again. 

“You’re a present, boy. Be good to my brother.” He ran a thumb over the young man’s chin, then leaned in so that only tribute could hear him. “Or else, I won’t be good to your sister.” Merle moved so he could catch the Kid’s eyes, see the swift dawning of understanding in them. After that, he patted the youth’s cheek; then, motioned for one of the guards. “Take him back to the handlers, have them strip him and truss him up like the gift he is. You put him in Daryl’s room. Be fuckin’ gentle, too – but if he fights you, knock him out without damaging him. You know how.” Was the order to the armed man that came over for the tribute. Then, Merle’s eyes were locked on the Kid once again; hand going to the tribute’s bicep, his grip tight and demanding as he pulled the young man close to him. “Don’t forget. I won’t. Give them all the Hell you want to, but you be sweet to my baby brother.” He’d growled those words in the Kid’s ear, then released him with a small push towards the guard he’d called over. After that, Merle turned to the rest of the faces in the room; including the blonde girl who was watching with incredulous eyes as her ‘brother’ was taken from the Hall. “Now, where were we?”

~

The guard that had been given the direction did exactly as he was told; he’d taken Glenn back to the room from whence he’d come. There was a small collection of people still there, getting the baths scrubbed. Others had to be called back, the directions laid out to them as they looked over Glenn with interested gazes. A few moments later, the tunic was tugged from him swiftly but gently, and before he realized it; he was on his knees again. This time, however, he was completely naked. Instead of redressing him, they made a harness of gilded rope over his chest; an ornate series of knots binding his arms behind his back.

Trussed up like a gift. 

Why was it strangely exciting? Even as his skin burned with shame at his arousal; at his entire situation. The attendants no doubt noticed, smirking gently at him – but saying nothing. They continued to work, making certain that the rope and its knot would hold him, but not dig in to his skin enough to leave any permanent mark. Once that was finished, he was helped to his feet by the handlers and turned over to the guard that had delivered him to them. Moments later, Glenn was being guided through a series of narrow, empty passageways. At least no one was going to stare at him as he was like that? Naked, semi-aroused and tied in knots, a present for another man.

~

Daryl, though he’d wanted to rest, had more work to attend to before he could retire for the day. Merle had given him the task, after the audiences had been completed, to sentence both the soldier and the woman that had manhandled the tributes he’d entered with. It was up to him, his brother had stated, to meet out their punishments – as he’d been the one to catch them both in the act of breaking the law. Merle trusted his judgement, and most likely wanted to see what he’d do. Would he show mercy, or would he retain the anger which had been reported to the Overlord? The woman had been sentenced to a fine for breaking the peace, one which might send her to penury; as for the soldier who had raised his whip? Well, it would be turned on him. Ten times; though the whip would meet his back, as it had not the youth’s. They both knew the laws for their actions, and Daryl would reinforce the reasons as to why no one was meant to harm or harass an unclaimed tribute. Especially on the man; he was supposed to be an example of the law to the common folk, not bend it for his own wants. Regardless, it all weighed upon Daryl, in the end. He wasn’t the Overlord, after all. Still, he understood Merle’s want for him to take on some of the duties which wreathed the highest echelons of their society.

So, it was going on rather late when he made it back to his quarters; heading first to his bedroom, paying no mind to the servants who moved through the area as typical – until he noticed, there was someone in there. Sitting on his bed. Which… well, that wasn’t… And then he saw who it was, and how that person was; and he dropped what he’d been holding. The flagon clattered to the floor, the ale sloshing out and around his boots as he walked forward, eyes locked on the youth that was tied in golden rope. 

The young man with the beautiful eyes. The gaze which had haunted him all day, since he’d first glanced down at him; seen the soulful truth of him. 

It was like walking in to some strange, erotic dream. The young man stared back at him, uncertainty in his gaze; Daryl soon knelt on the bed with him, hands moving over his bare shoulders. He reached behind the youth, feeling over the knots which bound him up. Daryl’s drive was in wanting to free him, before anything else, from the ropes which bound and had to be digging in. Kid had to be uncomfortable. He didn’t want that for him. Soon enough, he found he had to move behind the youth in order to free him; the knots were complicated, but fashioned to intrigue more than to overwhelm. Soon enough, he had the tribute picked free from the binds, and the gilded rope was uncoiling on the bed. The two men were silent together, though Daryl’s arm had come to wrap around the chest of his present, pulling the younger male against him. 

A soft gasp from the Kid’s lips, and Daryl could feel the tension in the young man’s body, and as he glanced down; he smirked gently as he hid his face in the sable tresses for a moment. Breathing him in; knowing the tribute to be excited in his tension and nerves. Had they given him something to be like this, or was it all for Daryl in reality? He hoped so. Better not to ask, though; the truth might not be something he wanted to hear. Instead, he moved his arm so that his hand could wrap around the younger man’s erection. He thumbed over the head gently, and nuzzled against his Present’s ear. Just moving with instinct, not even thinking over the details of how the Kid had gotten there. It was too exciting, too much like the fantasies he’d been entertaining since first seeing those beautiful eyes, that handsome face. The make of his arms, and the span of his shoulders. All of that was his now, Daryl’s. How could he not indulge in that?

~

“This for me?” Was asked of him in a rumble; the man thumbing over the head again. Glenn nodded a positive as he closed his eyes. The man he’d been given to licked his ear slowly, and the soft moan which fell from his lips was something that he couldn’t help. It felt good, where was the lie? It surprised him, yes. It really did; but this whole event seemed as if it were a strange fantasy. Besides, it was his fate? Why not follow what instinct was dictating? It was even more poignant than being with Maggie, this sudden wash of need and desire; the way his heart pounded and his nerves danced. Everything was wonderful, he felt decadent. Shame had melted away, replaced by a wantonness he couldn’t believe was born within him. Being freed from the ropes had made him slightly sad, but they had been starting to chafe. He’d been there only a short time, though; the guard had deposited him and then left, nothing but his own thoughts for company until the man behind him had come to the room. Glenn’s thoughts were knocked away then, as he felt the firm hand begin to stroke him in earnest. He was gasping, writhing back against the strong, broad chest of the man who had him wrapped in his arms. Glenn could feel the press of heat and longing against him from behind; even through the leathers worn by the one who held him.

A moment later, he was being pushed forward with a gentleness, and he found himself crawling across the bed and listening to the gruff command of ‘lay on your back’. Glenn did as he was told, and he found himself being stared at; devoured by bright blue eyes and the lust which lived within them. 

“Lookit you…” Was a breath, the man’s voice like the purr of a large cat. And then his mouth was on him; lips mapping his body like hands, and then tongue darting out to taste him. Teeth teased his nipples, and Glenn was lost in delight. Everything dissolving together as he was worshipped by this stranger who had saved him and Beth on the streets. Glenn found himself sitting up gently, reaching for the laces of the leather pants worn by the other man. He soon had him freed from them; the thick, long heat of the man’s cock in his hand. Glenn stroked him, teased him, and then he was being held back from him; a whimper falling from his lips, his breathing filled with sounds of longing. His hands were redirected to grip the bedsheets, and then his legs were being spread while one of the man’s larger hands wrapped around Glenn’s cock. And his tongue darted out again, grazing over his balls, and then back, further. He was made to part his thighs and bend his knees, and he felt the strangers tongue delve in to his hole; the tickle sensation making him call out, gasping as that tongue slid in deeper, made his bones turn to jelly.

“Sweet gods!” Glenn heard himself cry out, lost in sensation; surprised that the older man would do such a thing to him, for him. Wasn’t he supposed to serve? To be the one that was sweet to the other? What if Beth got hurt because…? But then he couldn’t think any more, because the delight of the sensation turned to slight discomfort; fingers seeking inside of him instead of tongue – but then, even that became a heated bit of bliss. Something in him was stroked against, and it felt like the world was made from stars. He cried out more loudly, and felt the vibration of the man’s chuckle against places which had never felt such vibrations before.

~

The young tribute was simply the most beautiful man he’d ever met. Daryl couldn’t help himself in indulging every little whim which came to mind. Tasting him, lapping at his hole, sucking his beautiful cock. Delving his fingers in, finding the Kid’s sweet spot; listening to him sing with bliss. Of course, he couldn’t wait but so long to really claim him. Still, he wanted this young man to feel delight, to bask in the glow of every sensation he could give him first. And then, finally, he was coating himself in the slick essence which would allow him to enter his Gift without hurting him. Bring them both to pieces. When he was inside, he heard the young man all but scream; the noise not one of pain, not totally. He kissed him calm and then started to move when he felt the delicious muscles relax around the girth of his cock. The way they squeezed and pulsed around him then, it was all so euphoric. He held the young man against the bed, thrusting in to him slow and sweet; his hand wrapped around the Kid’s cock. When he found his Gift writhing beneath him, he started to pound; bringing them both to ecstasy there on the mattress. The sheets had been pulled away, they were wrapped around one of the Tribute’s hands, while the other hand was making claw marks along Daryl’s back as he sought the gates of Heaven within that beautiful form.

When they came, it was almost at the same time. Daryl collapsed on the beautiful male that had been given to him, and he felt the young man’s hands caress along his form; their breathing matched and filled with sweetened delight. Slowly, he pulled from the younger male, and fell on the bed beside him; feeling the pull of sleep even as he glanced over at the black haired Tribute with those soulful, exquisite eyes. He found himself being watched in return; and then a hand came and touched his face, guiding him close for a kiss.

~

Glenn wasn’t sure what possessed him to make that contact, but there it was. For the time at hand, he was no longer afraid. Regardless, he was very confused by it all. Even if it had been… perfect. More than that, really. It was natural and wonderful, and just… unexpected? He felt completely wrapped in bliss, though; the aftershocks of his orgasm still lighting through him. Their lips met, and the Overlord’s brother stroked his cheek gently, almost lovingly. When the kiss broke, they stared at one another; both tired, but both completely wrapped in the other man’s gaze.

“What’s your name?” Was the rumbled question, blue eyes completely enraptured by him, still.

“Glenn. Yours?”

“Daryl.”

“Hello, Daryl.”

“Hey, Glenn.” 

And then they were both laughing. Wrapped around one another, and laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, um. So. I hope that seriously was okay? And that it wasn't completely nonsensical. They just kinda saw each other, squealed and it was all out sex from there? Sorry, not sorry? They're not. That's for damned sure.

**Author's Note:**

> Please, no one stone me?


End file.
